


The Darcyland Diaries

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Merry Christmas, Baby [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Music, Christmas at Graceland is Better With Thor, Darcy goes David Sedaris, F/M, Holiday Retail Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-02 07:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16300541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: A short fic about what happens when Darcy Lewis has to pick up a shift or two at the mall during the holidays. She thinks she can handle being an elf, right? She's heard David Sedaris read that Macy's elf thing on NPR and really loves it when he sings like Billie Holiday.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!

December 13th (late)

 

“Jane,” Darcy said into the cell phone, “I’m supplementing your meager grant income by working holiday retail at a mall _in elf ears.”_ She was pacing in the ladies room. “Can’t Thor sell his underwear online for our rent money?” A shopper washing her hands looked up at Darcy quizzically.

“Bad shift?” Jane asked. “I thought you said you would enjoy playing David Sedaris for a few weeks?”

“That was before I realized strange people would stand too close to me and I’d have to buy a clear purse. The headset isn’t as fun as I thought it would be, either,” Darcy said. “Foucault would say it’s a repressive tool of the Panopticon.”

“Who?” Jane said.

“Nevermind. I forget you slept through Critical Theory 101 because you were up all night making telescopes or something,” Darcy said. “I’m hiding in the bathroom with my tacky purse.”

“Why a clear purse?” Jane said.

“The Man thinks we steal. Like I’m going to risk jail time for all the Vanilla Snowflake lotion I can fit in my bag,” Darcy said.

“Oooh , that’s the limited edition holiday vanilla, right? Can you get me some?” Jane said.

“One, I’m making $7 an hour, so we’re too broke for name brands like The Bath Factory. We can only afford Big Lots now and they won’t have knockoffs of this stuff until January. Two, I can’t shop during my shift. Three, a guy sneezed _on me_ tonight _. Literally sneezed on me_ ,” Darcy said.

“Candy! Candy Cane!” a voice called, statically, through Darcy’s headset. “We need your assistance in returns!”

“Who is that?” Jane said. “Candy Cane?”

“My psychotically chipper Assistant Manager has renamed me Candy, okay? It’s my holiday name,” Darcy said. “I gotta go, even though my break isn’t technically over for two freaking minutes.”

 

“How can I help, Joyful?” Darcy said with feigned enthusiasm into the mouthpiece.

“This gentleman needs to return some items,” Joyful chirped back. “Everyone else is busy and I knew you’d be happy to help!” Through the headset, Darcy could hear someone arguing with Joyful.

“Fantastic,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes. She pushed the swinging door open, and stomped towards the store entrance. With the headsets, you weren’t even able to hide in the freaking bathroom. All the twinkle lights and fake snow in the display windows seemed especially mocking tonight. The Bath Factory was going to ruin twinkle lights for her.

 

There was a guy yelling at Joyful by the time she got there. “Look, I just want to return these okay? I don’t want an exchange, I don’t want a gift card, I just want the twenty bucks in cash and my life back, Jesus,” he snapped.

“I’m afraid without a receipt, I couldn’t possibly—-,” Joyful began,

“Oh for Santa’s sake, can’t you just give this nice man an override?” Darcy said with faked sweetness.

“I don’t think I can,” Joyful lied. Darcy went around the counter. It was a madhouse in The Bath Factory. Also, this guy looked a little scary. It was unseasonably warm in Virginia during the day and he was wearing a short sleeved tee. Darcy could see what looked like gang tattoos on the backs of his arms. She was so not getting shot by angry customer for seven bucks an hour.

“Don’t you remember how Snowflake does it?” Darcy said with fake innocence. She’d seen the other manager do this several times. Snowflake wasn’t a total b—. Darcy took over the register and hit few keys. “What’s your override code, hon?” Darcy asked sweetly. She looked between Joyful and the angry customer. Joyful typed it in, looking at Darcy sourly. “Thanks, Joyful!” Darcy said. “I can handle the transaction from here.”

“Thanks,” the Angry Guy said. Joyful glared at Darcy.

“You’re going to pay for that, aren’t you?” Angry Guy said, once Joyful was helping another customer near the giant bucket of multicolor loofahs.

“Shh,” Darcy said, tapping her headset significantly. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry.”

“It’s my pleasure!” Darcy said cheerfully. “Would you like to sign up for one of our store discount cards for a ten percent discount on your next purchase?” These were the canned bits of dialogue she had to say with every transaction. Whoever had come up with “my pleasure!” was obviously a total pervert. She scanned the tubes of bubble bath and tapped the register.

“No,” Angry Guy said. ”Thank you,” he added.

The drawer popped open. “There you are, sir.” Darcy handed him twenty bucks.

“Thanks, _Candy Cane,”_ he said wryly. “What’s your real name?”

“ _Candy_ _Cane,”_ Darcy said flatly. She’d been hit on by horny husbands so much that she was too tired to mock them now. Plus, her feet hurt. Eight hours straight of standing was actually pretty painful. “Have a happy holiday,” she said, hoping he’d get the hint. He was looking at her when a customer behind him knocked over a stacked tower of antibacterial hand lotions. “Fuck,” Darcy muttered, bolting from behind the counter. Little bottles were rolling everywhere. Somebody was going trip or break one. Then she’d be cleaning up sticky glitter ooze that smelled like peppermint with a metallic edge.

“Candy Cane!” Joyful’s horrified voice said statically through her headset. “Swearing? Not on the floor!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Darcy said to the customer, who was apologizing and helping her restack. That was rare. Mostly, people knocked shit over looking at their phones and just walked away.

 

***

 

Every night, security looked in their clear bags before the employees shuffled tiredly out of a back entrance at the Culver North Shopping Mall. They had to park near the dumpsters. Darcy had been warned not to park too near; there were rumors that at least one employee had come out at the end of a shift to discover a garbage rat chillin’ on their hood. Or worse. Madison  from the hot pretzel shop thought they’d eaten through her car wires. So, Darcy parked at the far end of the lot, hopefully out of garbage rat range. She couldn’t afford any mishaps with Jane’s aged Camry station wagon. They’d bought it used from a lot in Manassas when they realized they were stuck in the DC suburbs for awhile.

 

The temperature had dropped, so it was cold enough she could see her breath as she stomped across the dark pavement at the edge of the lot. She was all alone out there when she realized she wasn’t alone.  An SUV was driving behind her. She picked up her pace. The SUV pulled up beside her and the driver rolled down the window. It was Angry Customer Guy. “Hey,” he said.

“This qualifies as stalking,” she told him.

“I owe you twenty bucks,” he said. “You eat?”

“Not with strange men,” Darcy said, holding her keys in a defensive position. The damn mall wouldn’t let her carry a taser into work.

“Get to know me, then I’m not a stranger,” he said. “Look, I’m not a serial killer. You can put the key knife away. Get in your car, follow me to, uh, what’s open late?”

“Hearthstones Pizza Kitchen,” Darcy said automatically. Customers always wanted to know which place was open after the mall closed.  

“Ok,” he said, “let me take you to dinner?”

“Fine,” Darcy said. She was getting in her car and driving away if he didn’t murder her.

“You’re holding that all wrong,” he said suddenly. “Switch it over, use your thumb. And if you’re going to stab someone with a car key, aim for the eyes and face. Soft tissues,” he said.

“What?” Darcy said, shocked.

“I used to be in the military,” he said, sighing. “You really shouldn’t park this far away from everybody else. It’s not safe.”  He rolled up the window and pulled up to the lot’s exit, some fifteen feet away. Darcy stared. He wasn’t going to get out and murder her? His SUV had federal license tags.

 

***

She drove around the pizza place twice before she’d decided to go in. The pizza smelled amazing and she was starving.

 

He’d stood, leaning against his SUV, while she circled the building. At one point, she could swear he grinned. “Are you coming inside?” he asked, after she pulled into a space and got out of the car. He was holding the door open for her. “I was afraid you’d gotten lost,” he said.

“You’re paying,” she told him. He was definitely grinning now.

“Of course I am,” he said.

“You used to be in the military, but your SUV has fed tags?” Darcy asked him, once they were seated in a booth.

“I work for, uh, a sort of division of Homeland Security now. You want a beer?” Angry Customer asked.

“Can’t drink and drive, I have a family to support,” Darcy said.

“Kids?” he said.

“A very energetic boy—tall for his age—and a girl who likes science,” she said.

“No wedding ring,” he said.

“Never married,” Darcy said.

“Why not?” he asked.

“You ask a lot of very personal questions for a guy without a name,” she said.

“Brock Rumlow,” he said. “What’s your actual name?”

“Candy,” she said. If he was going to give her a ridiculous fake name, she wasn’t telling him her real one. He probably had a wife somewhere. She noticed he ordered a Diet Coke when she did, though. “Did you actually wait in the parking lot this whole time?” she asked.

“Nah,” he said. “I figured you were working a closing shift, so I went over to the bookstore, got the new David Grann.”

“The Antarctica one? I really liked _Lost City of Z_ ,” Darcy said. “It’s ridiculous that they hired that _Sons of Anarchy_ kid to play Percy Fawcett when Guy Pearce is alive. He’s Fawcett’s lookalike.”

“You like history books?” he said, looking slightly surprised.

“What? I can’t have all this and brains, too?” Darcy said, gesturing at her face and cleavage.

“No, I, uh--shit,” he said, grinning. “You got me. I just wasn’t expecting you to be a book nerd, Candy.”

“I have a BA in political science from Culver, Mr. Federale,” she said.

“Yeah?” he said. “How’d you end up at the Bath Factory?”

“I also, uh, do administrative work and lab management for a science NGO, but our grant money dried up,” she said. “We’re sort of a non-profit, so finances were always tight, but now they’re really bad. So, now I wear the elf ears, bring home the extra bacon.”

“Because you have a family to support. Their dad not in the picture?” he asked.

“Yes and no. Two dads. Jane’s father passed away,” Darcy said honestly. “He was a good guy, that’s where she gets her science brain from. I’m strictly a humanities person. My guy’s father is still around, but difficult,” she said.

“How so?” he asked, looking at her intently. He had beautiful eyes, Darcy realized. Flecks of green in the dark brown irises.

“He’s Scandinavian and lives, uh, abroad. Doesn’t make things easy. He’d like to have full custody of Thor, but Thor wants to live with me and Jane, so his dad’s always pitching a fit and trying to get him to stay longer when he visits. Guilt trips, the works,” Darcy said.

“Thor?” he said. “Like the Asgardian?”

“I know,” Darcy said, giving him a wide grin.

“Does he get bullied in school?” Rumlow asked, sounding concerned.

“Not at his size,” Darcy said. “He’s, like 105th percentile, height and weight wise. Nobody messes with my sweet, Pop Tart-loving child, really.” Rumlow laughed.

“Good,” he said. “I thought he might need a hammer.”

“He’s covered,” Darcy said, pressing her lips together to suppress full-blown laughter.

“Everybody buys the kid named Thor hammers?” Rumlow.

“Something like that,” Darcy said. They split a very large pesto swirl chicken pizza. “Oh God, I forgot how much I’m in a committed relationship with pizza,” she said, after her first bite. She suppressed a moan. He grinned.

“Committed, huh?” he asked, smirking.

“100 percent,” she said happily. Darcy hadn’t been able to eat out in months; she and Jane were too broke. They’d been living on off-brand Macaroni and cheese since Jane turned down a SHIELD job, post Convergence. Nick Fury has basically blacklisted Jane with all major universities to put pressure on her to come into the fold. He’d even put her on the no-fly list, which meant her homemade equipment was grounded in Virginia. She could travel with Thor, but she’d have to leave her doohickeys. Jane did not want to leave her doohickeys. They had some grant cash left and Thor had taken a secret construction job, but he ate a lot of his take home pay. Jane was seriously considering having Darcy make her a fake ID so she could adjunct one online class for $1200 a freaking semester without tipping off Fury (they thought a full course load in astrophysics might get his attention). Things were that dire. Also, Darcy had no idea adjuncts were so underpaid. She felt really bad about how she’d treated her French 101 prof now. Hence, Candy Cane the Christmas Retail Elf.

“What are you thinking about?” he said.

“Why’d you return your bubble bath?” Darcy asked. She wasn’t going to tell him she was thinking about how her bank balance was only $42.11, he might offer her money for sex. It would be difficult to say no. He was actually good-looking, in a dangerous sort of way. Those were definitely scary hot tattoos on his arms, she thought. Dude was cut and he had good cheekbones.

“They were a Christmas gift. The woman I was seeing broke up with me,” he said. “I travel a lot for work, my schedule’s crazy, and I missed Thanksgiving with her family. So, she decided it was time to call it a day.”

“I’m sorry. Are you upset about it?” Darcy asked.

“No, we hadn’t been seeing each other that long, but I usually spend Thanksgiving working, anyway. All my family’s in the Bronx, so I see them at Christmas. I’m just done buying women bubble bath ahead of Christmas,” he said wryly. “I’ve been working for, uh, Homeland so long that I’m no good at maintaining relationships.”

“But you took me out to dinner anyway?” Darcy asked.

“You did me a favor,” he said. “And I saw how nice you were to that woman that knocked over the display.”

“She was nice first,” Darcy said. “Most people are just like, _la dee dah_.” She mimed swanning away with a basket or a big handbag and he laughed.

“More pizza?” he said.

“Yes, please,” she said.

“Just don’t say my pleasure,” he said.

“I know, it’s freaking creepy,” Darcy said. She ate another slice, then looked at him. “Bubble bath isn’t that great a gift if you’re serious about someone and flaky about showing up, by the way,” Darcy said. “Just so you know.”

“It’s not?” he said.

“God, no. You should have bought that woman jewelry or taken her to a fancy steakhouse or both. The Bath Factory is for coworkers’ Secret Santa gifts and relatives you aren’t close to. How do you not know this?” she said. He laughed.

“Duly noted,” he said.

“Also, I know if you’re that bad at gifts, you totally didn’t invite me out to dinner just to be a generous philanthropist, alli right?” Darcy said. “This is the sad traveling man’s attempt to get in my pants. So sad.” He laughed even more.

“Would it be totally out of line if I asked you to come home with me and covered whatever it costs you in babysitting money to stay the night?” he said.

“I can’t stay the night,” Darcy said. She waved at the waiter. “Check, please.”

“I’ve got it,” he told the waiter, holding up a debit card.

“I know you do,” Darcy said. She wasn’t paying.

 

“Two, three hours?” he said, once they were outside. He’d given her the leftovers and somehow ordered her another pizza “for her kids.” He was laying it on thick, Darcy thought. She laughed.

“Are you really that desperate?” she said, opening the back door of the Camry to put the pizzas in.

“Maybe you’re really that appealing,” he said in her ear.

“Next, you’ll want me to wear the elf headband,” she said. Like this guy had two or three hours of sex in him. She suppressed a giggle. At his age? He had to be pushing forty.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said. “Candy.”

“Yeah?” she said.

“Come home with me?” he said.

“My pleasure, Mr. Rumlow,” she joked.

“Oh Jesus, don’t ruin the moment,” he grumbled.

 

***

 

December 13th (very, very late)

 

“I really have to go,” Darcy said sleepily, as he trailed a line of kisses down her bare back. “It’s been…two hours?” she said, incredulous, when she saw her phone. She’d followed him to his surprisingly tidy apartment, he’d made her a fancy espresso, they’d started undressing on the couch, and ended up in the bedroom.

“Yeah,” he said. She could _hear_ his grin as he pressed his mouth into her lower back. “You were tired, so we napped for a half-hour or so. Ready to go again?” he asked, massaging her hips.

“I can’t,” Darcy said. “I’ve got twenty panicked texts regarding my whereabouts. Someone will file a missing persons report if I don’t get home.”

“Five more minutes,” he said, rolling her onto her back. “You’re tense, baby. I had you all relaxed and now you’re stressed again.” He shook his head and kissed her bellybutton playfully.

“Brock,” she whined. “I really--oh my God,” she said. He’d crawled under the sheet and buried his face between her legs. “Okay, five more minutes,” she said, moaning. She stumbled through a text to Jane and dropped her phone back on the floor next to his pants.

 

 **_World’s Okayest Mall Elf:_ ** _Safe. BRB._

 **_HRH Queen Jane of Science! And Asgard:_ ** _Darce, where the hell are you? Heimdall says you’re in some guy’s apartment and shouldn’t be disturbed?_

 

“You could stay the night?” Brock said, as she was getting ready to leave.

“I can’t find my bra,” Darcy said, pulling her leggings on. “Is it in the living room?”

“I do really good scrambled eggs,” he said. She laughed. “What?” he said.

“I only like eggs in cake batter,” she told him, stepping into his bathroom in her bare feet and half closing the door. Her shoes--like her bra and her elf ears--were probably in his living room. “What the hell happened to my hair?” she asked.

“Me,” he said, chuckling. “You said you liked when I pulled it.”

“I’m a skanky elf,” Darcy joked. He was really incredible, though. All muscle and snark, like some sort of Bronx Adonis. She’d borrowed his comb when she noticed a sock next to the laundry hamper and reached down to toss it in. There was a shirt at the top of the pile. It had the SHIELD logo on it. “Shit,” Darcy said, stunned.

“Baby?” he said. Darcy looked towards the half-closed door in horror. She’d just had sex with someone from SHIELD? Had Fury sent him to seduce her or something crazy like that? She knew Natasha Romanoff used her beauty to seduce moronic Russian generals and stuff, but what if there was a whole division of hot guys? And Fury had discovered her kryptonite was snark plus Elvis hair? Now she was one of the morons.

“Yeah?” Darcy said, trying to sound cool and normal as she went back into the bedroom.

“You don’t have to go,” he said. He was sitting up on his elbows in the bed. God, the lying jack-booted thug was sexy, Darcy thought. Definitely a sex-sassin.

“Yes,” she said. “I so have to leave.” She found her phone on the floor.

“Okay, I don’t want you to go,” he said, following her out of the bedroom. She put on her bra and was buttoning her shirt when he slid his arms around her waist. “Candy,” he said. “Tell me your real name.”

“I have two kids, you don’t want to date a mom,” she lied, as he kissed her neck. Had he looked in her purse while she was asleep? The clear bag was sitting on his coffee table, next to her empty espresso cup and elf ears headband.

“Mmm-hmm,” he said. “I’ll coach Little League or let ‘em braid my hair or something.”

“You can’t even make Thanksgiving,” she said, picking up her purse.

“Hold on,” he said. He came back with a few folded bills and a card. “My number’s on this card, okay? Should take care of your babysitter.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said. She would take SHIELD’s damn money. “I really do need to go.” She stepped backwards towards the door.

“Wait,” he said. He kissed her. “I know you’re busy and I travel a lot, but I want to do this again soon.”

“Pick me up at work, feed me pizza, and make me late getting home on a Thursday?” Darcy said.

“Sure,” he said. He insisted on walking her to her car. She kissed him for a few minutes, but only so  he didn’t notice the license plate. Pretty much. “Call me?” he said in a warm voice. “If you don’t, I know where to find you.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said.

 

***

December 14th (early)

 

She called Jane from the car after she’d driven a few miles. “Okay, don’t be mad,” Darcy said, when Jane picked up.

“What’s going on?” Jane said.

“I might have had sex with someone from SHIELD. I didn’t know he was SHIELD at the time. But he picked me up at work and he thinks my name is Candy,” Darcy said, speaking rapidly. She was at a stoplight.

“What?” Jane said.

“Also, he gave me $150 for a babysitter. I don’t think he knows how much they cost at all.”

“A babysitter?” Jane said.

“You and Thor are my kids whenever anyone asks,” Darcy said. “He bought you and Thor pizza, too.”

“Oh,” Jane said. “Are you safe?”

“Yes, but he knows where I work,” Darcy said. “Shit.”

“What?”

“I left my elf ears on his coffee table,” Darcy said.

“You wore the ears?” Jane said.

“He thinks they’re cute,” Darcy said.

“Do you think Fury sent him?” Jane asked. Darcy thought about  how hot Brock Rumlow was and how eager he was for her to call him.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “Probably. He’s fishing for info.”

“But he doesn’t know where we live, only where you work?” Jane said.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. “Probably.” Who really knew for sure?

“You should quit the Bath Factory,” Jane said. “Don’t go back. Just ghost.”

“I’m on the schedule for tomorrow. Isn’t that rude?” Darcy said. She wouldn’t mind shoving it to Joyful, though.

“Nick Fury is evil,” Jane said. Darcy could hear her gritting her teeth. “We can make that fake ID, so I can teach.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “I’m almost home, but I’m going to drive around, just to be certain nobody’s following me.”

 

Once they’d hung up, Darcy turned on the radio and filched a piece of leftover pizza from the boxes she’d moved to the passenger seat. The station was playing “Imagine.” She hated that song. Darcy turned it off. “That is not a Christmas song, radio people. Cut it out. I’m very sad that Billie Holiday never made a holiday album,” she said to the empty, cold air. She was thinking of David Sedaris’s impression of Billie singing “Away In A Manger” in _The Santaland Diaries._ That had been what made her think she could handle being Candy the Christmas Elf.

 

She switched to public radio. They were playing Pink Martini’s version of “A Snowglobe Christmas.” Darcy loved singing along to that song. “Much better,” Darcy said. “I knew I could count on you, NPR.” She drove past empty streets strung with twinkle lights as China Forbes sang. The Bath Factory wouldn’t be ruining twinkle lights after all. Plus, she had $150 bucks in her bra.

 

***

December 21st (early)

 

“Sir, we’re very busy,” Joyful told the snappish customer.

“Look, just give me a name or a number, okay?” Brock Rumlow asked. “She’s about 5’3, dark hair, you renamed her Candy. You know who I’m talking about, you were there. It was a week ago. You gotta know when she’ll be back?”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t give out confidential information on our employees,” Joyful said, with a barely-suppressed smirk. She hated Darcy Lewis. She’d just disappeared! Didn’t even bother to officially quit. It had fucked up the schedule for two weeks. Also, this pushy, rude guy’s return had counted against her since Darcy transacted it under her employee number. This asshole might be the reason that management decided not to give her a twenty-cents an hour raise in January. Fuck the fucker. “I’m sorry, but it’s Bath Factory policy. I have other customers waiting,” Joyful said. A line had formed behind him.

 

“Thanks for all your help,” he said bitterly, leaving the store. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered. He hated the damn mall. He stepped out into the cold and brushed off a guy in a Santa hat offering hot apple cider samples by the Williams-Sonoma entrance nearby. Outside, in the front parking lot, there were still live Christmas trees for sale for charity. The Christmas tree lot’s speakers were playing Elvis Presley’s “Blue Christmas.”

 

***

December 24th (late)

 

“Hey,” Darcy said. “I’ve got an idea.” She, Thor, and Jane were all crashed on the couch. Their collective bank balance was now $363, since Darcy’s last Bath Factory paycheck and her sex-sassin money had been deposited and Thor had pulled some overtime de-icing sidewalks for a few local businesses. It was a safety-liability thing. He was calling himself the Ice Viking. They were thinking of making him some flyers.

“Yeah?” Jane said, pouring some Two Buck Chuck. Darcy had gotten a job at Trader Joe’s the day after she blew off the Bath Factory.

“Could Mew-Mew take us to see the Christmas lights at Graceland?” Darcy said.

“Yes?” Thor said. “Is this a Midgardian light show worth seeing?”

“Uh-huh. But won’t the gates be closed this late?” Jane said.

“We could land on the grounds?” Darcy said.

“Let’s do it,” Jane said. “Give the Memphis cops those fake IDs you made, tell them we hopped the gate.”

“I shall pretend to be drunk!” Thor boomed.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, looking at his empty bottle of Two-Buck Chuck.

 

***

December 25th (early)

 

“What the hell has you in such a bad mood?” Bianca Rumlow stage-whispered across the living room to her brother.

“Nothing,” he said glumly.

“You’ve been channel surfing all day like you were assigned to kill the remote, Brock,” she said.

“Has it ever occurred to you that our mother gave us truly stupid names?” he asked.

“I heard that!” his mother called from the dining room.

“Not me, I love my name,” Bianca said loudly. “It’s beautiful, Ma!”

“I heard that, too! At least one of my children appreciates my creativity!”

“She named us after soap opera characters,” Brock muttered. “You’re Erica Kane’s daughter, for fuck's sake.”

“Shh, she’ll hear you,” Bianca said. “Really, what is it?”

“It’s complicated,” he said.

“What, you’re a Facebook status now? Spit it out or I’ll tell Ma you hate your name and her Christmas ham.”

“No, no, no,” he said. He looked horrified. “Look, I met a girl and now I can’t find her, okay?”

“SHIELD can’t find her?” Bianca said. “There’s somebody SHIELD can’t find?”

“I don’t know her actual name,” he said in a low voice.

“What?” Bianca said.

“I don’t know her real name,” he said.

“What do you mean? You didn’t ask? You’re such trash--” Bianca began.

“She was working at a mall, I only know her elf name,” he said.

“Her elf name?” Bianca said, grinning. “What’s her elf name?”

“Candy,” he said, swallowing. “Candy Cane.”

“Oh my God, she’s really a stripper, isn’t she? I predicted this. Ma, your son is in love with someone called Candy Cane!” Bianca yelled. Mrs. Rumlow came into the living room.

“A stripper?” she said. “Fabulous, now I owe your Aunt Dolores $100, Brock.”

“Ma, it’s not--she’s not, okay,” he said.

“Oh my God, look!” Bianca said. Brock’s compulsive channel surfing had stopped at a cable news channel. “They arrested _Thor_ at Graceland? On Christmas?”

“Thor and two women,” Mrs. Rumlow said, reading off the crawler.

“But they let them go after Thor said he was a big Elvis fan and signed autographs for Memphis PD? They gave them a private tour?” Bianca said out loud. Nancy Grace seemed particularly irate about that. In the corner of the screen, her nostrils were flaring.

 

The shaky camera focused on the woman exiting the front door at Graceland last--after Thor and the woman whose hand he was holding--and she did a double thumbs up at the news guy. “Graceland is awesome!” she said. “We loved it!”

“My Lightning Sister is correct,” Thor said. “The hospitality of the King of Rock and Roll is superior to the Kings of Asgard,” he said seriously.

“What do you think?” the news guy said, holding a microphone up the woman next to Thor. “Miss?”

“Dr. Jane Foster,” she said. “I loved the peacock stained glass?”

“I loved everything!” the other woman said. “I’m Jane’s assistant.”

“That’s her,” Brock said. “That’s her. Motherfuckers, say a name. Godammit, say a name!” he yelled at the TV.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bianca said.

“That’s Candy,” he said. “There’s got to be a police report somewhere.”

“That’s Candy?” Bianca said.

“Nope,” Mrs. Rumlow said. “Thor just hugged that cop and he tore up his paperwork.”

“Your stripper name girlfriend knows Thor?” Bianca said.

“Wait, that doesn’t make any sense at all,” he said. “I thought she had a kid named Thor?”

“Who has a kid named Thor?” Mrs. Rumlow said. Bianca giggled.

“Someone named Candy, Ma,” she said. They both dissolved into laughter.

“I’ve got to call Memphis PD,” Brock said, leaving the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, Baby
> 
> (Because y'all wanted to know what happened next)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

December 25th (still early)

Memphis, TN and New York City

 

“Memphis PD is being surprisingly nice,” Darcy said to Jane. They’d been escorted into a little waiting area in the downtown station. Thor was happily signing autographs and letting people try to lift Mjolnir. The deputy chief of police walked by, wished them a Merry Christmas and a happy holiday, and spoke to the officers lined up to try the hammer.

“Now, y’all, don’t be incurring any worker’s comp injuries on Christmas or the director and the city council will have my head,” he said cheerfully. “We’ve got a good record for this year, wouldn’t want to wreck it in December.”

“No, sir,” some of the officers chorused back.

“They are nice,” Jane said. The desk sergeant had brought them coffee. Darcy fiddled with her aging iPhone.

“It’s too bad their wifi isn’t better. I wish you trusted Tony Stark enough to let him give us his new Stark phones. He offered us free ones with unlimited data and his streaming service. Unlimited data and free movies!” Darcy said.

“Nope,” Jane said firmly.

“You really need to work on your trust issues,” Darcy said. “You really think Tony would steal from us? He likes Thor. And he has no reason to steal--”

“Rich people are worse for intellectual property theft than poor ones. Look at Thomas Edison,” Jane said.

“If I had a Stark phone, I could be watching Harman Baweja be pretty and sing and dance,” Darcy said, sighing. _What’s Your Raashee?_ was streaming Starkflix this month. Darcy checked the listings every month with longing.

“You’re moping because the sex-sassin got under your skin,” Jane said.

“He was hot and very good at his job. I wonder where Fury finds them?” Darcy mused.

“Maybe it’s like that movie you made me watch about Venetian courtesans and there’s a school in SHIELD’s basement?” Jane said.

“Oh em gee, a school where Nick Fury teaches them to eat asparagus suggestively like in _Dangerous Beauty_ ,” Darcy said, giggling.

“At the end, they all get highlights and everyone goes to a ball in fancy dress,” Jane said, laughing.

“The prettiest one wins, I can see totally see it,” Darcy said.

“Natasha is probably a judge,” Jane said. “Steve would be too embarrassed.”

“You know it. I think I need to start dating again,” Darcy said, sighing. A passing policeman heard her and winked.

“Was the mysterious hot guy that hot? You haven’t taken dating seriously since Ian,” Jane said.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. There was a clatter as another cop failed to lift Mew-Mew and accidentally knocked over chair when he stumbled backwards.

“Whoops,” Jane said.

“Double whoops,” Darcy said. “Workers comp!” she called. The cops laughed. The deputy chief stuck his head out of his office.

“Dr. Foster, Miss Lewis, Mr. Thor, there’s somebody calling from DC. Says it’s important?” he said. Jane and Darcy exchanged looks.

“DC?” Jane said.

“Uh-oh,” Darcy said. “Never good news.”

The three of them went into the chief’s office. “I’ll give y’all a minute,” he said politely. Darcy thanked him while Jane put the phone on speaker.

“Yes?” she said.

“Foster?” Nick Fury said. Darcy groaned. “I heard that, Lewis,” the SHIELD director said. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”

“A very Merry Christmas to you, Nick of the Furies!” Thor said.

“Appropriate name,” Darcy muttered, sotto voice. Jane grinned.

“Can any one of you explain why you were caught using Mjolnir to break the law at such a critical point in my ongoing negotiations about, shall we say, gifted individuals with the pain in my ass we all know as Thad Ross? Lewis, I know you understand this, even if Foster and Thor don’t. Ross wants SHIELD to exercise more authority or be pushed out of authority,” he said.

“He does?” Jane said.

“I gave you the bullet points,” Darcy whispered.

“Uh-huh. I see how well you three pay attention. Let me be clear: It makes me look bad when you use Mjolnir to crash land on Elvis’s lawn. When I look bad, it makes me unhappy, and my wife doesn’t like when I’m unhappy at Christmas. She thinks it’s about her cooking,” Fury said.

“He has a wife?” Jane mouthed. Darcy shrugged and held her hands out in the universe gesture for ‘who knows?’

“I’m really sorry if we’ve hurt your wife’s feelings?” Darcy said.

“I’m not,” Jane mouthed.

“What is the great fuss? The Presleys of Elvis were quite friendly,” Thor said. “I spoke to some of them on the phone. They were not offended.”

“Are you telling me he talked to Lisa Marie or Priscilla on the telephone?” Fury said, sighing.

“It was some of Elvis’s Smith cousins. His mama’s side. They’re still local,” Darcy supplied. “Nice people.”

“Great,” Fury said. “But the fact that Elvis’s cousins are happy doesn’t make Ross happy, Lewis. Thor, you can’t use Mjolnir for the next week. Our negotiations are critical. Is that understood? Hammer time is over until I give you the all clear. Violators could be arrested.”

“Yes,” Jane said glumly.

“Yes,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes.

“Yes,” Thor said, patting Mjolnir gently.

“I’m glad we can come to this understanding. Have a Merry Christmas in Memphis. Go see Sun Studios,” Fury said. The phone clicked off.

“Well, that’s over,” Jane said, sighing.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Darcy said suddenly.

“What is wrong?” Thor said.

“How are we--” Darcy began.

“Going to get home?” Jane finished.

“My next shift at Trader Joe’s starts at three on the 26th,” Darcy said. “Tomorrow.”

“Fuckdoodles,” Jane said. “Fury set us up.”

 

Jane was still saying it when they left the police station to sit on the steps and talk quietly. “He did this on purpose. He wants us to either be so broke that we have to take SHIELD’s offer or feel pressured enough to call a quinjet,” she insisted.

“Jane, trust issues,” Darcy said.

“How much would plane tickets to DC set us back?” Jane asked.

“We’d be wiped out,” Darcy said. "And you're no-fly list, remember? The fake ID might not work."

“Ugh. Bus tickets?” Jane said.

“85% wiped out, plus it’s 14 hours by Greyhound after we catch the next one...which is tomorrow morning,” Darcy said. "Too late for work."  Jane groaned. Thor stepped outside, looking glum.

“Did you talk to Tony?” Jane asked.

“Tony of the Starks is also grounded for this week. He cannot even send a helicopter, because his have pilots of the robots,” Thor said.

“Controlled by his suit,” Darcy said, sighing. They were brainstorming plans when a cop stepped outside.

“What’s wrong?” she said, seeing Thor’s face. Jane explained that they were grounded and Darcy had work tomorrow.

“Also, we’re broke,” Darcy said sadly.

“Because a government agency wants us to be so we’ll work for them,” Jane said.

“The CIA?” the officer asked.

“Worse,” Darcy said.

“I think I’d prefer the CIA, they’d probably just shoot me and get it over with,” Jane said. Thor patted her shoulder comfortingly.

“I might be able to help you,” the officer said. “I’m Verna Tollis. My great-uncle is in a band that’s driving to DC today for a concert tomorrow night. Maybe they can fit y’all on the bus.” She pulled out her phone. “Be a treat to have Thor at their concert, too. Good publicity.”

 

***

Inside the police station, the deputy chief got another phone call. “Chief Keynes, Memphis PD,” he said.

“I need to know the whereabouts of the woman on the news with Thor,” an agitated male voice said.

“Who is this now?” the deputy chief said, startled by the abruptness of the caller.

“Commander Brock Rumlow, I’m with SHIELD in DC,” the man said. “The woman on the news with Thor, what’s her name?”

“You need to know the whereabouts of someone whose name you don’t know?” the deputy chief asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Is she still there in Memphis? Look, I know her, I just don’t know what name she’s using and SHIELD--”

“Slow down, son,” he said. “Now, now, who are you with?”

“I’m with SHIELD,” the man said. “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. I run a unit called STRIKE Alpha. We do counter terrorism. Counter. Fucking. Terrorism.”

“SHIELD? Counter terrorism? Is that right? Hold on just a second,” he said, cupping his hand over the receiver. “Bobbie,” he called to his lieutenant, “you gotta listen to this. Line #3.”

“All right,” she said, pressing a button and picking up her receiver. The deputy chief winked.

“Start again, son.” The deputy chief listened for a minute.

“I just need this woman’s name, goddammit. The one calling herself Dr. Jane Foster’s assistant,” the man on the phone said in a frustrated voice. “Just give me a fucking name.”

“All right, all right,” he said. “I think I understand what you’re up to here, Tom. You see Thor on the news, you think you can trick the Memphis PD with a made-up government agency? Get a nice clip, put some kazoos behind it, embarrass us on the morning drive in show the day after Christmas? That’s real cute there.“

“Listen, you country motherfucker--” the man on the phone said.

“You have a Merry Christmas, Tommy,” he said, “Say hello to the Wolfman for me.” The deputy chief hung up the phone and looked at his lieutenant. “Can you believe those goofballs from WHFZ, Bobbie?” he said.  He chuckled.

“Tommy and the Wolfman do do funny morning skits, though, chief,” she said. “You should’ve heard that one they did with a Senator Jones impersonator the other day. But that Tommy’s New York accent is just terrible.”

“I almost didn’t put you on Bobbie,” the deputy chief said. “Every other word was something I don’t like a lady to hear.”

“I worked patrol for five years, chief,” Bobbie said. “I’ve heard worse. But not worse than that phony accent!” She laughed.

 

In his mother’s kitchen. Brock Rumlow stared at her wall-mounted princess phone. “Who the fuck is Tommy?” he said out loud.

“Somebody eat all your candy canes already?” his sister teased, sticking her head into the kitchen.

“Not today, Bianca, not today,” he said. “I gotta catch a quinjet back to DC.”

 

***

December 25th (not early, not late)

Memphis, TN

 

Deputy Tollis drove them out to a ranch house in the Memphis suburbs. There was a bus parked in front. It had a name painted on the side. “Your great-uncle is one of The Memphis Majestics?” Darcy said, stunned.

“Yes,” the officer said.

“Jane, they sang backup for Elvis and a bunch of other famous singers,” Darcy said. “Oh em geeeeeee, this is incredible. They’re in the 1973 concert documentary!”

“Wow,” Jane said.

“Uh-huh,” Tollis said. “Singing “I Just Can’t Help Believing” and “How Great Thou Art” with Elvis during the warm-up rehearsals.”

“This is the coolest thing that has ever happened to me,” Darcy said. “Literally, I’ve never felt luckier. Oh my God.” She stomped her feet excitedly and bounced up and down in the back of the squad car.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said. “She turns into a five year old when she’s really happy.”

“Oh, no, honey, don’t apologize. Uncle Hoyt will appreciate it. He’s eighty-six,” Tollis said.

“Awww,” Jane said.

“He still likes the ladies,” Tollis said.

 

***

December 25th (almost late)

Washington, DC

 

“Give me access to the Foster files, Klein,” Brock said. He’d found the young tech analyst working a skeleton shift at SHIELD on the holiday.

“I can’t do that, Commander Rumlow. As a STRIKE Commander, you don’t have the clearance for that set of files,” Klein said. He swallowed nervously. He found Brock Rumlow intimidating on a normal day, but he seemed especially irritated tonight.

“What’s going on?” a voice said. Sharon Carter was standing in the doorway.

“Hi, Sharon,” Klein said, momentarily smiling. He had plans to have Chinese with Sharon Carter and his parents that night. Sharon’s parents were in England visiting Peggy’s children. He glanced back at Rumlow and his smile wavered. Frowning, Sharon walked in.

“Rumlow, are you hassling Cam?” she asked. Sharon felt protective of Klein. He needed nurturing, she thought.

“No,” Brock said.

“Yes,” Cameron said. “He wants Foster’s file.”

“Sharon, give me some help over here,” Brock said pleadingly. “I just need a damn name.”

“Language,” a second voice said. Steve Rogers had stepped into the room.

“Cap, this isn’t your business,” Rumlow said.

“Why do you want Foster’s file?” Sharon asked.

“I need her assistant’s name, that’s all. We went on a, uh, date and I’ve been looking for her,” Rumlow said.

“You went on a date with D--someone and didn’t ask their name?” Steve said skeptically. “How’s that work now?” He exchanged glances with Sharon.

“You know her name?” Rumlow said. “For fuck’s sake, Cap, tell me her name.” He took a step forward and Steve crossed his arms.

“I don’t appreciate your tone or your language here,” Steve said, sighing. “Let me make a call, Rumlow. I’m not giving out a lady’s name without her permission.” He left the room.

 

***

 

December 25th (the same time)

I-81 N, somewhere between Memphis and DC

 

“Darce,” Jane said. “Darce.” Thor was snoring next to Jane and Darcy was sitting in front of her, enraptured.

“Shhh, Jane,” Darcy said. “Hoyt’s telling me a story. Tell me again about the rehearsal session for “Little Sister/Get Back” with Elvis, Hoyt?” she said sweetly to the elderly man sitting across the aisle of the tour bus.

“Well, honey,” Hoyt said, putting his hand on her knee, “Elvis was real, real nervous before the tour started….”

 

***

 

December 25th (5 minutes later)

Washington, DC

 

“Well?” Rumlow said, when Steve re-entered.

“I can’t get a number for Thor from Tony and Jane’s phone is going straight to voicemail,” Steve said. “But Tony has his AI system calling them. They’ll call me back...eventually.”

“Look, just tell me her name, I can get in touch with her if I have an actual name,” Rumlow said.

“What name did she give you?” Sharon said, raising an eyebrow.

“She was working at the mall. They’d given her a holiday name,” he said.

“A holiday name?” Steve said.

“They do that now, give the sales people holiday-themed names,” Sharon explained. “Like Jingle or Holly or…”

“Tinsel?” Cameron offered. “What was her elf name?” he said.

“Candy Cane,” Rumlow said.

“You’re chasing a girl named Candy on Christmas?” Sharon said. Cameron snorted.

“Hey,” Rumlow said, “watch your mouth, Cameron.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Cameron said.

“I could see you thinking it,” Rumlow said.

“How do you know she’s Jane’s assistant?” Sharon asked.

“I saw them on the news, getting arrested at Graceland,” Rumlow said. “Or not arrested. Memphis PD won’t tell me anything,” he said bitterly.

“What’s wrong with Candy Cane? It sounds nice,” Steve said, with total innocence.

“Oh, Steve,” Sharon said.

“It’s a stripper name,” Cameron said helpfully. He’d pulled up video footage of the Graceland event. “She is hot, though,” he said. “Really hot. Candy Cane.” Onscreen, Darcy was doing a two-handed wave and a big smile on Elvis’s front porch. Steve frowned.

“Rumlow’s right. Stop thinking that. Stanley would be ashamed of you, Cam,” Steve scolded. “Your grandfather was a gentleman.”

“You knew his grandfather?” Rumlow asked.

“Cap saved Pop’s life during the war,” Cam said, looking guilty. “Sorry, Cap.”

“Don’t apologize to him, apologize to me,” Rumlow groused. She’s my…” he trailed off.

“Your what?” Sharon said.

“Person I have to find,” Rumlow said. “I’m calling Memphis again, if you won’t help me, Cap.” He made to leave the room.

“Rumlow,” Steve said. In the doorway, Brock half-turned.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Your girl is named Darcy Lewis,” Steve said.

“Thank you,” Rumlow said, the tension easing out of his shoulders. He left the room; there was a guy in asset surveillance upstairs who owed him a favor. Maybe Alan hadn’t left yet.

 

“You gave him her name?” Sharon said to Steve, surprised.

“He looked so sad, it reminded me of Bucky,” Steve said. “Who is waiting for me at home.”

“Did you and Bucky want to get Chinese with us?” Cam offered.

“I’ve never had Chinese at Christmas,” Steve said. “Is that a new thing?”

“He doesn’t understand that reference?” Cam said.

“It’s a Jewish thing,” Sharon said, smiling.

“Oh,” Steve said, blushing slightly. “It’s not rude to talk about, is it?” Steve sometimes struggled with knowing what questions were polite and which were not in the 2010s. He hated causing offense when he didn’t mean to.

“Nope,” Cameron said cheerfully. “Let’s get Bucky. I wanted to ask you, Cap, is it true that Pop saved that guy all by himself and _then_ you showed up?”

“It most certainly is,” Steve said, as they walked out.

  
  


***

December 25th (very, very late)

I-81 N, somewhere between Memphis and DC

 

“Darcy,” Jane hissed in a low voice, “you cannot marry an eighty year old man because it puts you closer to Elvis in the Kevin Bacon game. Also, that is a pinky ring!”

“It’s not an engagement ring, he just wanted me to have it,” Darcy said. “Elvis gave him lots of rings.” Darcy scrutinized the horseshoe shaped diamond ring on her finger. “I think it’s pretty, Jane.”

“Oh my God, you’re insane,” Jane said.

“This is the best Christmas,” Darcy said, sighing happily. “I don’t want to get off the bus, Hoyt,” she called up to the front of the bus.

“Stay as long as you want, honey!” Hoyt said back. “Come with us to the show in Baltimore!”

“Hoyt thinks I look like Priscilla. Young Priscilla,” Darcy told Jane. “Do you know what a compliment that is? She's so beautiful. I need to buy eyeliner when we have money again, work on my eye makeup. There’s probably a Priscilla tutorial on Youtube.…” Darcy mused.

“Wasn’t she like fifteen?” Jane said, horrified.

“It was the south in the fifties. Grandma Lewis got married at sixteen and stuff,” Darcy said defensively.

“Didn’t your Grandma Lewis try to kill your Grandpa once?” Jane said.

“Barely. She just lightly grazed him with her Cadillac. I think she mistook the gas for the brake,” Darcy said. “She was so sad when my mom took her keys away. She loved that Caddy.”

“I know your obsession with Elvis is all Grandma Lewis’s fault,” Jane said.

“Yep,” Darcy said. “Elvis and Christmas decorations.” She smiled up at the twinkle lights strung around the bus. “I could do a lot worse than Hoyt, you know. What if we relocated to Memphis, Jane? We’d be farther from Fury and I really think it’s my happy place. Thor likes the barbeque, too.”

“If you promise not to flirt with Hoyt, I will get Thor to call Elvis’s cousins and ask them to set you up with his grandson whatshisface,” Jane said. “But you have to give back the pinky ring.”

“Benjamin Keough,” Darcy said, sighing. “He’s so pretty. All those grandkids are gorgeous, Jane. Elvis and Priscilla genes are strong with the pretty.”

“Your children would be beautiful, now go give Hoyt back his ring,” Jane said firmly.

“Funsucker,” Darcy said. “You don’t think Benjamin Keough is too young for me, do you? He’s twenty-five, I’m thirty-one.” She stood up to return the ring.

“No,” Jane said. “You’d just need to get serious about Elvis’s great-grandchildren in the next five years or whatever.”

 

“There, I did it, look you made me break Hoyt’s heart,” Darcy whispered, sitting back down. “Look how sad he is now. Christmas is ruined.”

“How old was the sex-sassin, anyway?” Jane asked curiously.

“I dunno. Forty-ish? Forty-three?” Darcy said.

“That didn’t bother you?” Jane said.

“No, he was in the full bloom of his grown up hotness, like Elvis in _Charro_ ,” Darcy said.

“What?” Jane said.

“I’ll show you,” Darcy said. Hoyt had given her an album of Elvis photos to look at. “Look,” she said to Jane, pointing at a Polaroid.

“Oh,” Jane said. “I never knew Elvis had a beard. Sex-sassin guy was that hot?”

“Well, except for the lying and all that,” Darcy said. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” Jane said. She flipped a page in the album. “You do look a little like Priscilla. She was gorgeous.”

“I miss my Elvis ring,” Darcy said. She looked sadly at her bare finger. “No sparklies.”

“It was a horseshoe. A horseshoe,” Jane said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beardo! Elvis in Charro!: https://pin.it/gao7ugkwpbicfd


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-holiday rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

January 25th

Near Washington, DC,

Trader Joe’s (5pm)

 

“Would you like a sample of our sea salt brownie petite--” Darcy began. “Oh, hello.”

“You’ve been working at Trader Joe’s?” Brock Rumlow said, staring at her. Darcy thought he looked shocked. He was standing next to the salad case and she was doling out coffee and little brownie samples a few feet away.

“This whole time, you’ve been working two miles from my apartment?” he said.

“Maybe? What whole time?” Darcy said.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw. “I have been looking for you _everywhere._ Nobody knew how you got home from Memphis. The three of you just disappeared. No buses, no trains, no car rentals. One of the cops finally told me there was a rumor you’d all hitchhiked back. I thought you might be dead.”

“You did? But Fury knows how to reach us,” Darcy said. “Didn’t he tell you that we were back? He spoke to Jane last week. She said no again.” Their bank balance was somewhere around $158 dollars at the moment. Brock looked at her, evidently puzzled.

“Why would Fury tell me? Nobody tells me anything,” he said. “Memphis PD wouldn’t even tell me your name. Cap finally took pity on me,” he grumbled. “I checked every Jane Doe and John Doe body report from here to Memphis, looking for you and Thor and Foster,” he said, shaking his head.

“You thought I was dead?” Darcy said.

“The second time I thought you were dead,” he said. A woman reached around him for a brownie sample.

“It’s sea salt,” Darcy said cheerfully. She looked back at Brock. “The second time?” Darcy said, frowning.

“The first time was when you disappeared from the Bath Factory and I thought you were a poor single mom who parked too far out in the parking lot,” he said. “Then I was checking the local hospitals.”

“You mean Fury didn’t send you?” Darcy asked.

“Send me?” Brock said.

“To, uh, befriend me?” Darcy said in a quiet voice. “For information about Jane?”

“That’s what you thought?” he said.

“I thought you knew who I really was,” Darcy said.

“No,” he said, blinking.

Another customer asked Darcy a question. “Is the coffee on special?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Darcy said. “Would you like a sample?” she offered. “I have half and half, raw sugar, and our agave if you like cream and sugar?”

“I’ll be back,” Brock said, wheeling his cart away.

  


“Jesus fucking Christ,” Brock muttered, grabbing a box of Valentine’s Day cookies and some of those peanut butter-filled pretzels. “I cannot believe this. Fury knew. This whole damn time...”

“Can I help you?” another employee said. A skinny white guy in one of those Rastafarian-looking beanies.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I’m totally fine, I’ve just been at the Trader Joe’s this whole time,” he said.

“Excuse me?” the guy said.

“Can I ask you a question? How would you feel if you were looking for somebody--really looking--and everyone but you knew where they were and didn’t tell you? Meanwhile, you’re imagining every worst-case scenario there is, and trust me, there are a lot of worst case scenarios out there,” Brock said. “Wouldn’t you be a little upset?”

“Worst case scenarios?” the employee said. His name was Darren.

“Like dead in a ditch or starving or something really bad? Because she definitely has no food. I’ve seen how she looks at pizza,” Brock said. “I think she’s actually lost weight. Nobody loses weight over the holidays, unless there’s no food. Which is what I was worried about.”

“Uh-huh,” Darren said, nodding.

“I looked _everywhere._ I called people. I begged! I almost bribed a county employee for information, just trying to find out if anyone had spotted her. This whole time, she’s been two miles from my house,” Brock said. “I mean, I seriously considered putting up flyers the first time she disappeared, but I didn’t have a photo. I just run into her at Trader Joe’s today?”

“How long has your dog been missing, sir?” Darren asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“What?” Brock said.

“Your dog is missing?” Darren said.

“You have a dog now?” Darcy said, appearing at the end of the aisle.

“No,” Brock said.

“She’s missing,” Darren said. “He’s thinking about putting up flyers?”

“Oh, no,” Darcy said. “Can I help?”

 “You have got to be kidding me. I mean--I just, I just need a damn minute,” he said, abandoning his cart. Darcy watched him wander out into the parking lot. He was pacing back and forth, talking to himself. People were starting to stare.

 

“I wonder when he got a dog?” Darcy said to her coworker.

“You know him?” Darren asked.

“We had dinner once before Christmas. It was sort of a date. Only I didn’t think it was, you know?” she said.

“Sometimes it can be really hard to tell,” Darren said. “I’ve started to just ask, just so I know.”

“Like, ‘is this a date?’ as a question?” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” Darren said. “It’s not very smooth, but at least you know.” Darcy nodded.

 

Rumlow came back a few minutes later for his cart. Darcy saw him and walked over. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m glad you’re okay. Really, I am. I was worried.”

“You thought it was a date,” Darcy said.

“Yeah. What did you think it was?” he asked.

“I thought it was a date….until I saw the SHIELD shirt in your laundry hamper and then I thought it was a Fury trick,” Darcy said quietly.

“Darcy--” he began. She shook her head. Her manager was walking by.

“Try the shrimp gyozas, my roommate _loves_ them,” she said, retrieving a bag from the frozen case.

“Yeah?” he said. “What else do you like? Your roommates?”

“Ummm, the vegetable stir-fly, the tomato basil flatbread pizza, and, oh, the spicy woodfired one,” Darcy said. He surprised her by getting several of each.

“Have dinner with me again?” he asked quietly, once the manager had moved away.

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Here.” She took a pen and wrote down her number.

“Thanks,” he said softly. He gave her a long, intense look that made her feel a little weak in the knees.

“Umm, we live at the Colonial Arms apartments,” she said. “225B.” She wanted him to be able to find her if she lost her phone.

“Ughhhh,” he groaned.

“What?” Darcy said.

“Do you know how much crime there is in that apartment building?” he said.

“Really? Everyone is always nice to us. Even the guys who have those bikes,” Darcy said. “I was a little nervous around Kevin and Jose and their friends at first, but they’re always friendly. They like Thor.”

“Bikes?” Brock said.

“Motorcycles. They call themselves the K Street bike club?” Darcy said.

“Lewis, those are drug dealers,” he said, huffing out a sigh. “They’re a gang.”

“Really?” Darcy said. “They had such a good time trying to pick up Mew-Mew. That’s a bummer.”

  
***  


January 25th

Washington, DC

Trader Joe’s (closing time)

  


“You’re lingering in the parking lot again?” Darcy said when she left work at Trader Joe’s. Rumlow was standing in the parking lot, next to his vehicle.

“I realized your car wasn’t here when I left, so I came back at quarter-til to see if you needed a ride home. Please tell me you’re not walking home?” he asked.

“Jane is going to pick me up,” Darcy said. Jane and Thor had dropped her off for her shift today because Thor was using the car and doing some de-icing work. They were going to struggle more until the got the all-clear from Fury to use Mew-Mew. Negotiations with Ross had apparently ground to halt, which was really cramping their style. Mew-Mew had been doing double-duty as a powerful weapon and a second car, basically, until the Memphis Incident. Also, Mew-Mew liked to help Thor work on the icy sidewalks. Darcy believed she liked having a job--Darcy was convinced Mew Mew was a she--and now Mew Mew was looking a little down at the mouth. Thor was having to de-ice by hand, too.

“Let me take you home?” Rumlow offered.

“No, it’s okay,” Darcy said. “I’ll wait for Jane. They’ve probably left the apartment already.”

“At least come sit in my truck,” Rumlow said. “It’s freezing out here.” They were walking towards his vehicle when Darcy’s phone rang. It was Jane.

“Hello?” Darcy said.

“Darce, we’re broken down, can you grab someone from work and pick us up ?” Jane asked, sounding worried.

“Ummm,” Darcy said. She looked at Brock. “Can you pick up Jane and Thor?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, unlocking his SUV door. She climbed into the passenger side, slipping a little on the doorframe.

“Whoa,” Darcy said.

“Are you okay?” he said. He’d automatically reached over and grabbed her arm to steady her.

“Yup,” Darcy said, wiggling up into the seat and buckling her seatbelt.

“Where am I going?” he asked.

“Arlington?” Darcy said tentatively. She hoped he didn’t mind going out of his way. “Thor’s de-icing the sidewalks at the Cheesecake Factory. They give him free cheesecake. He has to do it all by hand now, so it takes longer.”

“How did he do it before?” Brock said.

“With Mew-Mew,” Darcy said.

“Mew Mew?” he said, frowning.

“Mjolnir,” Darcy said. “She’s very sad.”

“The hammer is sad?” Brock said.

“She likes to help, so the embargo is making her depressed. She just sits at home and doesn't move when you're not looking like she used to. She was really good at cracking frozen ice, too. It sort of looks like when you crack creme brulee, only bigger and louder.”

“Uh-huh,” Brock said. “Thad Ross was at headquarters yesterday.”

“She can’t fly, either. That’s why we had to take the tour bus home from Memphis,” Darcy said. “With the Majestics.”

“What?” he said. “The who?”

“One of the cop’s great-uncles is a member of the Memphis Majestics, they were Elvis’s backup singers. She got us on their tour bus because they had a concert here,” Darcy explained. “We were totally safe. Hoyt Tollis wanted to give me a ring he got from Elvis, but Jane made me give it back.”

“A ring from--why’d she make you give it back?” Brock asked.

“Because she thought it was wrong to lead on an eighty two year old man. Also, she thinks horseshoes aren’t pretty. But Hoyt wants me to come to their concert in Arlington in March,” Darcy said.

“What, did he tell you that you look like Ann-Margret or something?” Brock teased.

“Excuse me, he thinks I look like Priscilla,” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh,” Brock said wryly.

“You’re just jealous that you’d didn’t think of it,” Darcy said.

“Apparently, you stay in touch with Hoyt,” Brock muttered, “so maybe I should have. I really believed you, by the way.”

“What do you mean?” Darcy said.

“I thought you were a single mom with two kids. I was worried about you. About them. You tell me that you have a Scandinavian ex who wants full custody and then you disappear?” he said. “I totally bought that.” He shook his head.

“Oh, that’s true. I meant Odin. He wants full custody of Thor. And Jane’s dad did pass away before New Mexico,” Darcy said. “So, neither of them have much dad-support these days. Odin froze Thor’s access to any Asgardian stuff he could sell here. I suppose he might plot to kill me and Jane so he could kidnap Thor, but I don’t think he’d do it himself.”

“What?” Brock said, sounding horrified.

“He’d get somebody else to do it,” Darcy said. “Frigga’s gone, so he’s lost a meaningful counterbalance, I think. He’s really pissy and mean these days. Thor says he yells  and starts wars more. He’s launched a few unsuccessful wars since Thor left, probably trying to get Thor to come home. He even tried to start shit in Jotunheim. Sleepnir was seriously injured, poor thing.”

“Odin doesn’t like Jane and you?” Brock said, surprised.

“God, no. Even before Frigga died, he called Jane a goat. He blames her for Frigga’s death, I think,” Darcy said. “Frigga was hiding Jane when the Dark Elf guy killed her.”

“Oh,” Brock said. “Shit. That’s heavy.”

“Word,” Darcy said. “Odin’s a complete asshole.”

“Word?” he said to her, raising an eyebrow.

“In my high school French class we used to say _mot_ like word,” she said, sounding it out.

“Moe?” he said.

“ _Mot_ is the French word for word,” Darcy said, grinning. “M-o-t, but the t is silent.”

“So, Thor is de-icing sidewalks--” Brock said.

“He does some construction work, too. He loves pouring concrete,” Darcy said. “The trucks with the spinny thing? He likes to watch it go round and round and then put his feet in the cement somewhere secret.”

“He’s pouring concrete, you’re handing out brownie samples, and Jane the astrophysicist is, what, knitting socks?” Brock asked. “Is this some sort of hipster thing?”

“You don’t know?” Darcy said. They’d stopped at a redlight. When he looked at her blankly, she continued, “Fury wants Jane to work for SHIELD, but she won’t. So, he had her blacklisted at all the major US universities and put her on the no-fly list. Now, with Mew-Mew grounded, we’re really stuck. And I guess the car is broken--” Darcy sighed.

“Shit. Shit,” he muttered.

“What?” she said.

“I didn’t know Fury was putting pressure on you like that,” he said. “You really are as broke as I thought you were, aren’t you?” he asked, swallowing. He looked uncomfortable.

“You didn’t know?” Darcy said. “But you’re SHIELD...”

“I run STRIKE Alpha,” he said. “We’re a tactical unit. Counter-terrorism. I work with Cap, mostly. I’m a whole different division, as far as information flow. I didn’t even have the clearance to see Foster’s file when I asked for it.” He huffed out a sigh.

“Oh,” Darcy said. Her car was up ahead, the emergency flashers going. “There we are,” she said, pointing. “So, you realized I was really broke? How?”

“Oh, there were some clues: the horrified micro-expression you made looking at menu prices,” he said, snorting. “That you were driving a 1999 Camry station wagon? Or the way you circled the block and made sure I was paying before you went inside? That you told me you were trying to support three people on a minimum wage mall job. When I asked you about birth control, you said that you were glad you got an implant when you had money,” he said, doing air quotes. “Did you think I thought a babysitter was $150? It was just all the cash I had in my wallet. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, so I played dumb. I thought you might be having to choose between keeping your lights on and buying your kids Christmas presents--” he said. “Jesus.” He was looking at someone who’d loomed out of the dark.

“That’s Jane and Thor,” Darcy said, spotting them next to the stalled station wagon. Thor waved at them with Mjolnir from the curb. "Oh, look, he brought Mew-Mew. I'm glad," she said. 

“105th percentile for his age, huh?” Rumlow said.

“Where’s the lie?” Darcy said, giggling. He grinned at her.

“Let me call the towing company,” he said, pulling out his wallet.

“No, hold on--”

“Cut it out, Candy,” he said. “As long as I’m here with the AAA card, it’s free for me. Do you know how humiliating it was to tell everybody I was looking for someone called Candy Cane, by the way? My mother has not stopped making jokes.”

“You told your mother about me?” Darcy said, stunned.

“I was home for Christmas when you showed up on the news at Elvis’s house,” he said. “I yelled at the television.” He popped the SUV’s door open and called out to Jane and Thor. “Come sit in the car,” he said. Darcy waved them over.

“This is Brock,” she explained when Jane climbed into the car with Thor.

“The SHIELD guy?” Jane mouthed at Darcy. She nodded.

“We ran into each other at work today,” Darcy said.

“Hello,” Thor said politely.

“Hi. What’s wrong with the car?” Brock asked. “Do you need it towed?”

“How can we trust you?” Jane asked.

“I believe we are out of gasoline,” Thor said.

“Oh,” Brock said. “Easy fix. Is the car locked?” he asked, cranking the SUV. “There’s a gas station a few blocks up.”

 

He drove them to the gas station, then insisted on filling up the spare container he kept in his SUV. “He’s very attractive,” Jane admitted in a low voice. “Even under fluorescents.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said.

“Darce, I didn’t want to say it in front of him, but we walked here. Our card was declined. Are we overdrawn?” Jane asked.

“I’ll check,” Darcy said, getting out her phone to check the banking app. She handled all the banking. Jane was too absent-minded and Thor’s fingers were too big to enter the passwords. “Oh, no, I forgot to change the auto-payment date for the utilities bill when I switched jobs. I changed the other bills, but not the water and power. No freaking way. Shit, shit, shit. No, no, no.” Darcy leaned forward, feeling nauseous. Thor reached over the seat and patted her gently.

“Are we broke?” Jane asked.

“Yes,” Darcy said, her voice muffled from where she pressed her face into Brock’s dashboard. “For the next five days, anyway. But there’s nothing else set to auto-pay until after my paycheck comes in, thank God. We just have to have nothing else go wrong.”

“Okay,” Jane said. She exchanged glances with Thor.

“What?” Darcy said.

“When are we ever that lucky?” Jane said. She stared out the window. “I hate Nick Fury. I hate him.”

Brock tapped on the glass. Darcy leaned over and opened his door. “Yeah?” she said.

“Do you want something?” he asked, gesturing to the gas station. “Candy?” He looked at Thor. “Jerky?”

“No,” Darcy said sadly.

“What’s wrong?” Brock asked her.

“We’re broke. I made a banking error,” Darcy said.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You do a great job,” Jane said loyally. “This is all Fury.”

“I’ve got it,” Brock said. “What do you want?”

“No, you already bought gas--” she began.

“It’s okay,” he said. "Just let me take a picture of myself with the hammer or something?" He grinned. "Everybody at work will be jealous."

“Peanut M&Ms,” Darcy said finally. 

 

She and Jane watched from the SUV as he and Thor went inside. “You like him, don’t you?” Jane said.

“He didn’t know about Fury,” Darcy said. She explained that Brock had really thought she was a broke single mom and been looking for her.

“You realize that’s a bit stalkery, right?” Jane said. “More than a bit.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She didn’t want to tell Jane that it was really nice to have someone worrying about her for a change, instead of her worrying about them. She felt really tired and angry at herself for not changing the auto-pay and wished she had a rewind button for life. It was the whole hopeless-slash-helpless feeling of being stretched so thin. If she’d just noticed it the day before, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Are you self-flagellating?” Jane said. “You’re too quiet.”

“Possibly,” Darcy said glumly. “I fucked up and I’m upset that I can’t fix it.” She wasn’t going to cry now, though. It would be too humiliating. Inside the gas station, she saw Brock nod approvingly as Thor picked out a half-dozen bags of potato chips and a fistful of candy bars. They came out carrying bags of stuff. Darcy knew Brock had paid for it all. He looked happy as he got back in the SUV.

“I brought you coffee,” he told her, “in case you were cold.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said, trying to smile.

 

They’d refilled the gas tank and Darcy was getting out of the SUV when Jane put the keys in the Camry. The engine sputtered and died. “You have trouble with the battery in the winter?” Brock asked.

“Sometimes,” Darcy said.

“I’ll give you a jump,” he said. He tried jumping the Camry, but it was still all sputtery. “It sounds like the starter has failed,” he told Darcy. “I’ll call AAA.”

 

Darcy--standing next to the SUV with an empty coffee cup--looked at Jane in the driver’s seat and burst into tears.

  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what the Cheesecake Factory does with old cheesecake anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

January 25th (very, very late) or January 26th (very, very early)

Washington, DC

Brock Rumlow’s apartment

 

“Oh, Brock has cable. Let’s watch TV,” Jane said, eating a slice of the almost-discarded cheesecake that the woman at Cheesecake Factory had given Thor at closing time. It didn’t taste stale, she thought. She leaned against Thor’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Thor said, nodding happily. He was on his second pepperoni pizza and his third beer. There had been a bag of potato chips while he waited for the pizza. He had not felt this full in several weeks. He patted Mjolnir with his other hand.  After the car had been towed, Brock had insisted they all come back to his place and ordered them pizza. Then the SHIELD agent had tried to lift Mjolnir, unsuccessfully. Thor suspected that Darcy had somehow put him up to it. She’d gotten a funny look and Rumlow had winked at her. Thor was not going to tell Mjolnir, however.

“Ooooh,” Jane said. “I haven’t seen _Cupcake Wars_ in forever.” Next to the television in Rumlow’s apartment, there was a small Christmas tree. It was unplugged. Underneath, there were some wrapped packages. “He still has his tree up?” she said, grinning. “He’s as bad as Darcy. She left her pink mini one up all year in Norway, she said it made her happier in the cold. But who leaves unopened presents on January 25th?” Jane asked. Thor shrugged and chewed his pizza crust.

“Is it not a Midgardian custom?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said. Jane was getting up to use the bathroom when the top one--all shiny red and gold paper in stripes--grabbed her attention. Jane picked it up and started looking through the stack. “Thor,” she said. “Come look at these presents.”

 

***

“You feel better yet? Can I get you more wine?” Brock said to Darcy from the bedroom.

“No, I’m still working on this glass,” Darcy said. She’d eaten her weight in pizza and was taking a bath in his tub. It was bigger and nicer than hers. Brock was actually talking to her through the bathroom door, very politely. She guessed that the crying had freaked him out. He was having a friend look at the car tomorrow.

“I can take you to work tomorrow or have Carter come get me. You can use my car,” he said.

“You don’t need to do that,” Darcy said. “I feel like I’m imposing.”

“You can’t walk to work,” he said, sounding annoyingly calm and reasonable.

“I’ll take a bus,” Darcy said, trying not to cry again. Her emotions were all whacked out. She probably shouldn’t have had wine, but she was so tired. So freaking tired. Darcy realized she needed to get out of the tub.

 

He was stretched out on the bed when she emerged in his bathrobe. “Hey,” he said cheerfully. “C’mere. This is just a bad night, okay? We’ll figure this all out.”

“We?” Darcy said, sitting down next to him.

“For a start, Cap, Natasha, and I are going to pay Fury a visit tomorrow,” he said. “You know them, right?”

“A little,” Darcy said. She’d met them both at Tony’s parties several times. They’d been nice, but Thor knew Steve better than she and Jane did---from Avengers stuff--and Natasha was all mysterious and Russian and whatnot.

“Well, nobody’s happy about what he’s done to you, Thor, and Jane, okay?” Brock said.

“What are you going to do? Hit him with Cap’s shield?” Darcy said.

“No,” Brock said, chuckling. “We’ve all threatened to quit.”

“What?” Darcy said, shocked.

“Cap was incensed. I’ve never seen him so furious. I didn’t know he could actually text that much,” Brock said. “He used language,” he said wryly.

“Steve cussed?” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“Wow,” Darcy said. She was surprised and tired. “And Natasha is upset, too?”

“I think so. She texted me things I didn’t understand in Russian. C’mere,” Brock said, holding his arms out, so she could snuggle him.

“Thank you,” she said. She was so tired and it was so nice to be full and have someone else go yell at Nick Fury for a change.

“No problem,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. A moment later she was wheezily snoring against his neck. Brock grinned. She sounded like his sister’s elderly French bulldog, Dmitri Marick. Bianca had named the dog after her favorite of Erica Kane’s husbands.

There was a series of sudden blaring sounds and excited talking. “What’s that?” Darcy said sleepily.

“Your fake children have discovered their Christmas presents,” he said, grinning.

“You got ‘em presents?” she slurred.

“I thought they were real children,” he said. “Jane got things from that science nerd store in the mall and I got Thor a video game thing,” he said.

“Was it expensive?” Darcy asked.

“The game thing? Nah. Had it in evidence. I got it pretty cheap. We auction that stuff occasionally,” he said. “It belonged to that fake terrorist that Stark caught, the Tangerine or whatever?”

“The Mandarin? Wasn’t he into drugs? You gave my large adult son a druggie’s PlayStation?” Darcy said, alarm making her open her eyes.

“I had the drug dog sniff it first, it’s clean,” he said. “You think he’ll like the Navy SEAL game I got him?”

“Oh, okay,” she said. She closed her eyes. “Yeah. Wait, were you trying to mold my fake large child into a little you?” He’d told her a little more about his job as they ate. She suspected he liked that he didn’t have to maintain the pretense of not working for SHIELD with them around.

“Maybe,” he said, casually.

“What was Jane’s present?” she asked, nuzzling his neck again.

“Some of that weird putty stuff, a chemistry set,” he told her. “If I’d know your fake daughter had a PhD in astrophysics, I would have bought the telescope,” he said, chuckling.

“They’re going to make such a mess in there,” Darcy said. Thor would have Mew-Mew covered in putty.

“I’ll tell them they have to clean up or I’ll take their toys,” he said, chuckling. From the living room, Darcy could hear the loud, crashing sounds of Thor playing video games. There was a burst of video game gunfire. She hoped Jane didn’t set anything on fire with the chemistry set.

“Are you trying to be the strict dad now?” Darcy said skeptically. “I thought you wanted to coach Little League and let Thor braid your hair?” Her eyes were heavy.

“Thor?” he said.

“Obviously,” Darcy said. “He’s really good at it. Jane’s so competitive. She’d kill at Little League and she might still be under the height rules, honestly.” He laughed.

"I'll look it up," he said.

“Hold on, SHIELD auctions off the things they steal? Did one of you schmucks get my iPod like that?” Darcy asked suddenly. She sat up and looked at Brock.

“Ummm, why don’t you open your Christmas present?” Brock said. He reached over and retrieved something from the nightstand. A small wrapped box.

“I see you trying to distract from my point. Did some HYDRA goon get my iPod?” Darcy said. He’d told her about the failed Uprising over dinner; Darcy guessed that an internal coup led by secret Nazis--and barely foiled by Cap and the loyal STRIKE agents--was one of the reasons Fury was so pissy these days.

“Open your present,” he said cheerfully. “It’s not bubble bath.”

“Shh, it’s rude for it not to be a surpri---oh my God,” Darcy said. Inside the wrapped box was a familiar, battered item.

“Guy tracked it down for me in Albuquerque,” Brock said. “Stashed in a warehouse.”

“My iPod,” Darcy said, inhaling.

"I bought your fake kids their Christmas gifts first, but when I found out your name, I remembered the stories about you sending Phil Coulson a thousand emails, wanting it back," he said.

"Actually, it was 973 emails," Darcy explained. "Erik helped me make a program to send them automatically."

 

-THE END-

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't heard The Santaland Diaries: https://www.npr.org/2016/12/23/506475364/a-holiday-tradition-david-sedaris-reads-santaland-diaries


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